Work Text:
Donghyuck meets His stranger in a day like any other.
He opens his eyes, bleary and tired, and wonders if college is really worth it before he gets up, does his bed, and gets dressed. He puts a protein bar in his bag and runs to the bus station. Late, like every other day.
Dreams aren’t supposed to have an expiration date. That’s not what they sell in the pamphlet of a happy and successful life. Honestly, it’s no one’s fault most people notice it until it’s too late… And so, here he is. Like most people.
Maybe he was considered a genius when he was ten, and a prodigy when he was fifteen. But he’s twenty now, and that makes him a completely normal dude with no remarkable ability for anything specific, no big-ass inclinations and no huge dreams or plans to accomplish.
He supposes his case is an exception, though. He had more than one dream, after all. He wanted to be a cook or a writer or an event organizer. Then he looked in the mirror and realized he only kind of wanted it — he didn’t crave it passionately and probably would never.
And so, he chose a flexible business major in a college nearby. He does well, has fun and friends… and he’s happy — well, kind of happy.
Although it’s been said Hyuck met His stranger in a day like any other, that is also kind of a lie. See, Donghyuck would never forget his headphones, ever. But that day, he does.
As most things in life, it all happens because of a stupid coincidence; no headphones meant no music, and no music meant people-watching to avoid his (honestly depressing) monologues.
Donghyuck’s eyes end up on a boy seated across from him. Black hair, rumpled hoodie and mad rapping skills. How does he know the last one? Let’s say the stranger doesn’t notice how loudly he’s singing, how evidently he’s dancing in the middle of the 7 AM bus of line four, which could be filled with zombies for the look of everyone in it.
Despite the hour, the mood, and Donghyuck’s ungodly hate for mornings and lack of caffeine, a smile paints his lips. He lets a small chuckle out and The boy sees him.
He’s a pretty boy, Donghyuck will admit; big doe eyes, high cheekbones and a really cute blush. The cherry on top is the way he lowers his eyes, bites his lip and murmurs a deep “Sorry”.
Hyuck can’t help it. “Is it really that good?”
The stranger scoffs and offers him an airpod. Donghyuck is too curious and too tired to argue. In two steps he crosses the wagon to stand in front of Him, one hand on the rail, the other one reaching for the offered earplug.
A groovy song comes on, angry and sad and hopeful. And all Donghyuck can think about is how much he wants to get to know this guy who’s happy-dancing to a song about self-heartbreak. Someone who looks as lonely as him, but can fill up the room bus with (sort of) quiet enjoyment.
Because Donghyuk used to be that person who’d always seem cheerful, and sang to make his friends laugh and joked away his pain to have space to ease others’... But, at some point, he got tired and resentful and numb to anything except annoyance.
He wants to remember what peace feels like, what he used to be like.
And maybe he doesn’t know this stranger’s name, but he believes he knows his soul. That same spirit used to live in him, before.
“I think you’re my new favorite stranger,” he says.
The stranger looks up at him, lips quirked into a small smile. “It’s a shame. I’d share my playlist, but I wouldn’t be all that mysterious anymore.”
Hyuck pokes his tongue at the inside of his cheek, planning. “Do you usually commute at this time?”
“You really won’t ask for my name?” the stranger asks in amusement, a light tilt to his deep voice. Hyuck shakes his head and holds his breath. “I guess I’m sticking to this schedule then.”
“Deal.”
Just like that, Donghyuck meets another lonely dreamer-has-been and it feels like something sparks back up in his chest.
***
Donghyuck and His stranger become friends pretty quickly.
“I saved you a seat,” the boy tells him shyly. Every day, without a hitch. Every single time a tiny bit less awkward but just as blush-ey.
“You after my heart, stranger?” He teases back, if only because His Stranger’s red ears make his heart rabbit in his chest.
In that twenty minute trip, they talk and talk about everything and anything, the way you’re only able to talk to someone you don’t know.
For someone who claims to be an introvert, His stranger talks a lot . About a million things, really. Music, school, movies, space, his friends, his older brother and some more about music. He tells him about his favorite superhero and how excited he was for Dr. Taylor’s album and his first kiss with a boy. He tells him stories about his past, about his future dreams and the fears that haunt him.
Surprisingly, Donghyuck finds himself telling him all sorts of things back. Jokes, witty remarks and even stories of his own.
But it’s 7 fucking AM; after a week of blabber, the driver tells them to shut up or get off the bus.
That’s how the notes start. One pen, two people’s arms, so many things to tell — and a stranger willing to listen ( read) .
Donghyuck comes to know His stranger through his chicken-scribble and weird abbreviations. He sees the shyness in the small letters, the happiness of his slanting, the creativity in his round letters and how softly his pen slides over Donghyuck’s skin.
He decides he likes the way he writes Sunshine on his arm, dot high over the ‘i’ and his ‘s’ an artistic scrawl. He likes the giggle that leaves his own lips when he sees the blurred ink of the happy face drawn on his palm. He likes His stranger’s hands stained black and blue to match the reassurances he wrote on Donghyuck’s tanned skin.
It’s only until His stranger asks him: Dreams?
Donghyuck shakes his head and presses his lips together. The thing about being scared and tired at the same time, is that you’re terrified of failing but exhausted of trying. But he can’t really summarize his whole crisis for it to fit on His stranger’s forearm.
Scared , he writes back.
U free today?
ig…
Meet me @ park bus-line 3, 4PM
Donghyuck frowns in confusion, but writes a small ok anyway. So he goes to his daily lessons full of questions and expectations, more than kind of giddy (now that is what excitement feels like for real).
The day goes by and Hyuck honestly doesn’t remember shit. All he can think about is His stranger. Hell, he only bothered with coming to class because of sheer routine.
He runs like a rom-com protagonist in That One Dramatic Running Scene™ as soon as his last class is over. And he’s glad to find His stranger already there.
“Hey,” the other boy greets him, voice gruff and nervous. He clears his throat. “So, I once saw this in a show, and it seemed cool. So, you know, I just, I thought it’d be nice to do it, if you want to! Of course. Just, you know, you write down your fears on a paper and burn it… and it sounds really dumb out loud but I swear it was very emotive in the show, I cried a little—“
“You’re an idiot.”
“I missed your voice,” His stranger blurts out. They both get flaming cheeks, and Donghyuck finds himself way too satisfied about the way His stranger rubs the back of his neck and chuckles nervously.
“You must’ve missed talking,” he teases.
“And listening,” he completes with a small smile. Then he adds, “I uhm, I am an anti-paper person because I watched The Lorax and grew a conscience… So, if you don’t mind me being an idiot, we can use some of my lunch trash to write and throw away?”
Something pretty and warm that Donghyuck hadn’t felt in a long while rises up his chest.
“Lucky you, eco-friendly idiots are my kind of idiots,” he replies. His stranger’s smile makes the warmth in his chest grow roots and expand — to make his arms and neck and back enveloped by this sensation of feeling .
The boy offers him a bag of chips — clean, which is great — and a Sharpie. He takes the dumb (incredibly thoughtful) bag of chips and writes: too much, too little, too late, too rainy, too gray.
He gives the bag back and His stranger writes down his own Me too + stubborn, childish, perfectionist… aliens :p
He crumples the bag in his fist, gives it a little kiss and offers Donghyuck to do the same. So, Hyuck’s lips touch His stranger’s skin delicately, slowly, before he throws their bag of insecurities in the trash can.
Donghyuck let’s out a shuddering breath and laughter bubbles up inside him. It’s dumb. Dumb to say goodbye to his fears with a kiss and a friend by his side, and it’s especially dumb to feel this relieved, this weightless, this free.
His hand latches on to the sleeve of the other boy’s hoodie without his permission. But his smile reaches his eyes as he says: “Hey, stranger? I… thanks.”
His stranger answers back with his own smile and a nod of his head. “Any day, dude.”
It doesn’t become an everyday thing. But it does become more common for him to let it out .
That’s its own miracle. First, Hyuck not aggressively ignoring his fears. Second, him telling them to someone else.
See, emotional constipation isn’t only about unhealthy upbringings or something. Sometimes, it’s simply about not making a big issue out of things that definitely are because you don’t want to be a bother or there’s another priority at the moment or you’re just used to handling it yourself.
So, yes. The days pass and they keep writing jokes and not-so-funny things. To the point where Donghyuck can whisper when the space in His stranger’s skin is no longer enough.
“Don’t know what to do with my life or failures,” he manages to confess at the end of today’s ride — he doesn’t give His stranger enough time to reply or react before he’s off the bus. Because, hey, Donghyuck has learned to let it out but not necessarily to receive answers.
Baby steps, you know.
His stranger doesn’t disappoint, though. He doesn’t say anything the next day. He just hands Hyuck an AirPod and a folded piece of paper.
Curiosity is killing him. Yet, when he tries to read the note, His stranger goes cherry-red and sputters.
“You can’t open it next to me! It’s a violation of the gift code!”
Donghyuck snorts. “Even if I apologize to Santa?”
His stranger puts on a fake frown. “No…”
“I like to be on the naughty list, though,” he smirks.
His stranger gets tomato-red, his contagious laughter bursting out of his chest. Donghyuck laughs along and puts the folded piece of paper in his pocket. They smile at each other, gratefulness on both of their smiles — even if it’s for different reasons.
That night, Hyuck goes to bed with tears in his eyes and relief in his heart. He thanks the skies, the universe and even Santa Claus for the gift of meeting His stranger, so kind and funny and exactly the type of person he needs in his life.
Dear you, on the line 4 of the bus… here goes nothing.
Not knowing and knowing scare us in different ways, but you gotta jump anyway. Try to look sideways, there’s always someone else jumping, even if it’s not the same situation or feelings.
One way or the other, you always know where to find me. I’ll be scared shitless, but we can be scared and foolish together, at least.
Worst part is, Donghyuck believes him. Every single word.
***
The first dose of medicine never fails to make you feel a thousand times better. The second and third one help. And if something small was wrong, it’ll all go away with a bit of patience and maybe some sleep. But when something’s wrong for real, the effect just dims… and you’re back to feeling like shit in no time.
Donghyuck’s stranger might be one of the best people he’s ever met, but he’s only a boy. Hyuck’s problems feel lighter around him, but they don’t go away.
Sometimes, he has great days and His stranger makes him forget. Sometimes, his kind of happy life bitch-slaps him and tells him to stay down.
Today, a counselor asks what he wants to do with his life and he tells her without hesitation or the usual fear; he wants to get a cozy little apartment, work at a socially responsible company that pays for his silly hobbies, scented candles and cheap-ass food. He smiles when he says it, sure about it, for once — and she shrugs him off, asks him if he’s going to waste his opportunities on such small dreams when he could do more .
Sometimes you carry dreams like medals. Sometimes you forget medals and chains are both metal straps around our necks, heavy over our hearts, forcing our sight down and away from anything else.
When you try so hard at achieving, satisfaction is bound to end up feeling overrated. Which is not to say people shouldn’t try hard for what they truly want, but do we need to constantly want more and more? What’s the limit to achieving? When will it be enough? When will he be enough?
Quick answer: never. Humans are greedy and foolishly ambitious like that. And because Hyuck is an overthinker, he can’t stop thinking about it, even next morning.
“What’s your dream, stranger?” he asks quietly.
His stranger presses his lips into a thin line. “I wanted to be a star expert as a kid,” he says with a soft smile. “Now I want to graduate top of my engineering class. Get a corporate job before that. Own a place by thirty. Travel outside of the country. Marry the love of my life. You know, all that movie stuff, heh.”
That gets a smile out of him. “That's nice.” He pauses, “do you still like space?”
“Prettiest thing ever, but I like it as a hobby, mostly,” he shrugs. “You have to admit it’s easier to focus on something, even if leaving the comfort zone is oversold,” His stranger replies.
“Are small dreams even worth it? Or am I the only one dumb enough to keep them around?” he lets out a humorless laugh.
“What makes you think they’re small?” he asks, his brow furrowed like he doesn’t understand. Like… like he has this blind faith in Donghyuck — believes so steadily in something that isn’t there, that it’s almost true.
That makes Donghyuck chuckle for real. “Even mainstream things require some effort, I guess.”
“Damn right, dude.”
Then, another thought comes to him. He leans his head against His stranger’s muscled shoulder, runs his fingers down his arm until he can run his fingertips over the dry skin on his hand.
“You make me feel better and then hurt my feelings?” he whines.
The other boy clears his throat nervously. “What?”
Donghyuck bites his lip, keeps drawing circles on the back of his hand. His kind of sad day becomes joyful when he notices the rabbit-pulse at His stranger’s wrist. “You say romantic shit and then call me dude? That’s low.”
“You—” he swallows hard enough for Hyuck to hear it. “You refuse to tell me your name.”
“You said it yourself, mystery is sexy.”
“I never said that!” he balks, so cute with his doe eyes wide open. It’s a shame that he notices the smirk playing at Hyuck’s lips. “Dude, you’re making fun of me!”
“Yup,” he admits, giggles streaming out of his mouth. “ And , still not your dude.”
“I’m a dude, though.”
Now Donghyuck’s the one who’s confused. “So?”
His stranger shrugs. He blushes form his neck and up to his ears (Hyuck can tell by the heat on his skin). Then, he blurts out: “I see you when I look inside me.”
His heart stutters for a moment before it tries to thump its way out of his ribcage. This time, his own cheeks turn pink.
God, he’s got way too many feelings for a stranger. But that spark in him, that invisible thing that links them together — not their friendship, but something else. That thing when your soul speaks to somebody else’s, when they can meld and mold together because they have the very same essence.
He’s not about to spout poetry at His stranger for calling him dude. He refuses to do it.
So he buries his head in the crook of His stranger’s neck. “Terrible excuse. But I’ll take it.”
***
Once again, Donghyuck keeps thinking about it. About him .
How much he likes the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble on his chin, the beanie over his messy hair. How much he likes how all of it makes him so real. How strangely comforting he finds it to see someone who has a life like his, with many troubles and many joys and many moments he cannot categorize exactly. It makes him feel so relieved, to see he’s not the only rough traveler in this world of people who pretend to be perfect — at least to everyone else.
It hits him like a bus, to see His stranger so sad after so many days of waving his morning-person flag everywhere. It makes Donghyuck feel like he ought to return the cheering-up favors he’s been pulling since they met.
“Why the long face, stranger?”
His stranger scoffs, leans his head against Hyuck’s shoulder. “Being an adult sucks. I’m tired but can’t stop doing stuff because I’m responsible now. Ugh .”
Hyuck wishes there was a defined path he could go down on. That he had a strong nudge in one direction, instead of a few little pushes towards everywhere — nowhere. He just wishes he didn’t have to figure it out step by step, with a mostly abstract objective of ‘True happiness!!!’ in his cloudy mind.
It’s good to know that he isn’t the only one wandering through life. That he can enjoy the road even if he’s still not all that sure about where it’s taking him. That not having big dreams doesn’t make his life meaningless. That he has time — no matter what people say.
Running out of time. What a funny thing to say. As if we could run away from time, or hope to keep it in our hands.
And yet, being left behind is one of his biggest fears. Logically, he knows it’s not a race, not even a marathon… but some things get stuck so deep in your brain that you can’t really dig them out — only learn how to step over them without dirtying yourself.
Donghyuck chuckles. “Don’t I know what that feels like.”
He chooses to let it go, to let His stranger rest his tired head on him and try to sleep some of it off. He looks outside the window and briefly imagines himself in a music video (because he’s bored okay? Everyone does it anyway). Then, they get to the last stop before Donghyuck usually gets off the bus: the park.
What’s interesting is what he sees; what seems to be an open yoga class of some sort…?
An idea strikes him.
“We should go, now,” he says as he shakes His stranger awake. And Hyuck feels the flame inside him spark up and up and up. He feels excited and happy about such a little thing that he just has to.
“...What?”
“How many classes do you have today?”
His stranger is clearly confused. He rubs his eyes with closed fists and Donghyuck thinks it’s adorable, but he also knows they have to get going. He grabs his shoulders and shakes him again.
“Hey! Uhm, only two. Not that important anymore, since I’m done with those projects,” he replies.
“Come on!” Donghyuck grabs His stranger’s hand, no second thoughts, and pulls him out of the bus and into the park.
His stranger pulls back. “I can’t skip just because I’m tired, I gotta—“
“Let’s not be responsible adults for one day,” Hyuck interrupts him, his eyes begging. “It’ll be good for us, promise.”
His stranger bites his lip and follows him reluctantly. So Donghyuck takes the chance and leads him to the class. He asks the instructor if they can join.
The answer is yes.
They stretch muscles they didn’t know they had, regret saying yoga is not real exercise and actually give meditation a try. Let’s just say it’s a surprising experience for both of them. One that leaves them sweaty, hungry, with some grass on their clothes and smiles on their faces.
The class ends, they thank their instructor and watch everyone else go. But His stranger is, in fact, a perfectionist. He’s stubbornly trying to do the headstand again.
It has been very fun, honestly. But Hyuck’s stomach might start eating itself if he doesn’t get lunch soon. So, naturally, he tries to help.
In an attempt to push His stranger’s legs off and not be distracted by his bubble-but in sweatpants, Donghyuck falls on his face. On top of the other boy. Don’t ask how, he doesn’t know, okay? All he knows is that he barely catches himself, hands by the side of His stranger’s head, heaving chests touching.
Then—
“Your stars are pretty,” His stranger murmurs, a hand hovering over Donghyuck’s face.
Hyuck gapes. His cheeks start burning hot. “I, uh, thanks.” He can’t help but let his mouth run free, though (probably shock-induced): “Space pretty or human pretty?”
His stranger chokes on air. “You’re— I can’t breathe,” he points out. Which, taken, Donghyuck should’ve noticed.
“Oh, right.”
He gets up, helps the other boy to his feet, too. They pat the dirt off their clothes and try to make something decent out of their hairstyles. Honestly, they still look ridiculous, but they get points for the effort.
His stranger clears his throat. “Thanks.”
Donghyuck cocks his head to the side in confusion. “Dude, I dropped you. You sure you’re okay?”
The other boy giggles shyly. “For bringing me here, dumbass,” he completes. “I… you know, when you try to take time off after being constantly busy, you feel like you’re forgetting to do something, or like you’re wasting your time. You’re a pretty good distraction, though,” he shrugs. “Thanks.”
Donghyuck wouldn’t be able to stop his lips from turning upwards if they had tried.
They say, if you don’t know where you’re going, it doesn’t make a difference what road you take. But Hyuck thinks it does. He’ll spend longer on the road than at the end of the line anyway. And maybe his end line is the road itself. Directionless is not always the same as lost, and sighting an objective is not always as satisfying as some claim.
“There are people who run towards something, but most often than not, we’re all just running away.” From our comfort zones, from disappointment, from ourselves. “So what really matters is falling in love with running — and finding a safe place to rest every once in a while.”
“Maybe you’re right,” His stranger shrugs. “I, uhm, I like to walk by the river.”
“I sing in the shower.”
“Everyone does. You ain’t original,” His stranger pouts at him.
“Fine. I… I eat kimchi jiggae from this super small place near my mother’s house,” he confesses, shoulders shrugging and a smile appearing on his lips. “It’s a very messy place that reminds me of my family,” he chuckles.
“Sports.”
“Friends.”
“Biking.”
“Video games.”
“FIFA’s pretty good.”
Donghyuck snorts: “Normie.”
“Hey! That’s a yellow card for you,” His stranger tuts back. Donghyuck throws his head back in laughter, a second voice joining him. Then— “You.”
His brain glitches for a second. “Did you just say what I think you just said?!”
“Don’t be an ass about it,” he whines. “You know, for a safe place, you’re pretty mean.”
It takes his breath away. He can only gape like a dumb fish and pretend his heartbeat doesn’t feel faint from His stranger’s words… because out of all the dreams he’s ever had, this wasn’t one of them — but it certainly feels like a dream he wants to keep.
His brain, his mouth and his heart don’t seem to be synchronized, though (he blames it on his usual emotional avoidance :D).
“You should check your standards, stranger,” he says, chest not big enough to hold his feelings and blush way too obvious to hide them.
However, the important part is His stranger seems to know. He smiles shyly at Hyuck as he shakes his head. “Whatever, dude .”
They eat corndogs to lessen the weight of what’s been said and what’s not. It’s ridiculous to claim they aren’t aware of what exactly it is they’re feeling, but they make do.
***
You can’t be disappointed if you have no expectations. That’s what the whole emo MJ thing is about, right? Right. So, the disappointment is probably Donghyuck’s fault anyway.
It was just too unexpected , to be stood up after His stranger left with a smile that morning in the park, after he wrote on Donghyuck’s skin next morning:
Sunshine personality and stars on your skin… more than just space pretty.
Anyone would’ve thought this thing between them would evolve or something. Hell, Donghyuck woke up yesterday and practiced asking him on a date in front of the mirror. He thought… but well.
That’s love— life, he guesses.
He’d be sad about it but pretend to be over being stood up (he won’t tire of repeating it) after months of mornings and words and music, if it wasn’t for the fact that His stranger does show up today — looking pretty guilty, at that.
“I saved you a seat, you never came. Impolite thing to do, even for a stranger,” is the first thing he says.
His stranger shrinks into himself. “I’m sorry,” he says with a hand behind his neck. “I had an exam and couldn’t make it.”
Donghyuck frowns. “Isn’t your campus on the stop after mine?”
If His stranger’s ears get any redder, they’ll probably explode. “About that…” He mumbles something Hyuck doesn’t catch.
“What?”
“My campus is on the western part of the city, I only take this bus to talk to you!”
“Oh. Oh ,” is all he can process. “Why? You stalking me?”
“No! I’m in love with you!”
“You took the wrong bus-line for months because of that?! How early did you get up? Is your bank account okay?” He asks, scandalized.
“I… it doesn’t matter what bus you take as long as it takes you where you wanna go, right?”
The one and try sign to know whether you want someone in your life or not is pretty easy to catch: can they get through the numbness of your daily life? If the answer is yes, treasure them — people and experiences that make you feel something more than kind of happy, are rare.
Donghyuck likes teasing His stranger a little too much, though.
“Don’t commute at this time anymore. It won’t work.” He waits for the sadness in His stranger’s pretty, doe eyes (payback, bitch) before he adds: “Can I see you again at an acceptable hour for non-morning people?”
The other boy lights up like Christmas, nodding his head. He extends a hand. “I’m Mark. May I finally know your name? Or should I just call you sunshine?”
Donghyuck absolutely loves it when His stranger calls him sunshine. More so, as the old him resurfaces. But anyways .
Mark. Pretty name for a pretty boy. Mainstream but cool. Kind and understanding. Short and cute. Perfect, honestly.
A one-way ticket to the road of life, he thinks.
“Hi. I’m Donghyuck,” he shakes Mark’s extended hand. “But you can call me your boyfriend.”
Mark smiles through his blush. And Donghyuck knows that he’s gonna enjoy the ride.